


Gasp

by MadTrout



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt, Veela, Weak Smut, cant even really be considered smut, im sorry for this, mated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadTrout/pseuds/MadTrout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione ponders what being with Fleur Delacour means, but her discoveries can't wait for them to reach their flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gasp

Fleur has never been a very vocal person: She doesn’t have to be. Her presence and her magic can call the attention of an entire room before Fleur announces herself. 

It’s an ancient magic that dates back to the height of the Grecian empire. It tingles along Hermione’s skin when Fleur touches her. It demands attention, respect, and self-control. 

Fleur once told her that to be a Veela and to be mated is to be the drink for a thirsty man, useful all at once, but precious when savored. Fleur is at her utter disposal. To be used any way Hermione sees fit.

Hermione chose to savor her.

There is no doubt that Fleur thinks for herself. To say otherwise would be ridiculous and insulting. However, Fleur is also totally submissive to what Hermione wants to the point where she anticipates it before Hermione herself is even aware of it.

Hermione holds Fleur’s hand and her warmth soothes Hermione’s exposed hand from the winter wind. They walk further along the cobblestone sidewalk, Fleur follows only just behind Hermione, taking the wind without showing any signs of discomfort. It’s then that Hermione realizes just how much Fleur does for her.

Her mouth opens in a gasp and a cloud of steams gets swept away by the wind. Pulling Fleur to a stop, Hermione catches her blue eyes, and while they look eager, there’s also some hesitancy. “Here,” Fluer asks, her voice is barely a whisper. She does not need to say much. Fleur and Hermione have their own language; one that’s as old and primal as Fleur’s magic.

It’s spoken in the way that Fleur’s body temperature is always accommodating to Hermione’s comfort. (If she is hot, Fleur is cool. If she is cold, Fleur is her personal furnace). It’s spoken in the way Fleur anticipates her desires. It’s spoken in their discomfort when they are away from one another. It’s spoken in the way Fleur’s body moves when Hermione’s does, hyper-aware and hyper-sensitive. It’s spoken in the way their mediocre arguments fizzle out before they can gain any momentum.

Reaching up to touch Fleur’s cheek (Fleur’s free hand grasps her waist), Hermione nods. “Yes, here.” She pecks Fleur’s lips. “I need you. Now.”

Of course, Fleur knows this and she feels Hermione’s desire ten fold. She can almost hear her grandmère's voice in her head, ‘Veela are sexual beings, mon Fleur.’ Fleur’s fingers dance along the buttons of Hermione’s coat while her lips seek her lover’s neck. 

"Don’t tease me like this, ‘ermione."

"I would never." Hermione’s breath is warm against her ear. The younger woman backs them into a small alley and presses herself between Fleur and the wall. Pulling at her collar, Hermione brings Fleur’s mouth down to her.

The sounds of their mouths pressed together, coaxing the other are the only thing to be heard for a few moments. That is, before Hermione’s hands drop to her Veela’s pants. With a dexterity previously unknown to Fleur, Hermione undoes her belt and slips her hand beneath Fleur’s pants.

It’s rushed and desperate and so not like Hermione, but soon Hermione’s urgent thrusts and rough strokes leave Fleur a mess in her lover’s arms. The aftershocks that course through her lithe figure wear off, Fleur gasps plumes of steam in Hermione’s wild hair.

"I…" Hermione pulls her hand from inside her pants and fixes her clothes while Fleur struggles to find the English words to express her confusion. She decides on gasping and trying to control her breathing until Hermione finishes fixing her Muggle jeans.

"I…" Fleur manages, supporting herself with the wall. She adjusts and kicks an empty can. "I am confused."

Fleur can feel the smile on Hermione’s lips when she kisses her. “I’m sorry. I needed you.” For Fleur, this is explanation enough.

Brushing her long hair away from her face, Fleur shakes her head and huffs around a smile. “There is nothing to apologize for. Come, let us get home and we can see how adventurous you really are, mon soleil.”

Hermione is encased in Fleur’s strong embrace before they disapparate. If she were with anyone else, she would feel like she was being pulled apart, but Fleur’s arms hold her close and they arrive at their flat with a gasp and a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why they don't just apparate. Just don't do it.


End file.
